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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24909031">Nightstalker</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Facsimiles/pseuds/Facsimiles'>Facsimiles</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Byleth thinks alot, F/M, Golden Deer Route, PTSD, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Rating May Change, This was supposed to be cute n romantic, but really its just sad bc war, but there will be Soft Uwu Hours</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 01:08:33</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,908</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24909031</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Facsimiles/pseuds/Facsimiles</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>War is a merciless entity. </p><p>It sinks its claws into friend and foe alike, bringing destrucion indiscriminate. Byleth grapples with the shadows of the past, the responsibilties of the present, and the ghosts of the future. She dreams of the death of her allies, of her memories of futures changed, and of the duty she knows she cannot escape - killing Edelgard.</p><p>---<br/>Set after the Battle at  Gronder</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Linhardt von Hevring/My Unit | Byleth</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Byleth wakes with a start, chest heaving. Her clothes cling to her body, clammy and slick with sweat.</p><p>The night is warm and humid, but Byleth feels a prickling cold pinching at her body.</p><p>That dream again. Always the same dream. A memory. She recalls his gaunt face, eyes sick with unbridled rage, twisting his once handsome features into a foreign visage. She remembers his broken screams as he cuts down Imperial soldiers, the red of their uniforms darkening with blood. She remembers his despairing outcry as he crumples to the ground, mere meters from where the Flame Emperor stands, his body a pincushion for a dozen arrows. Byleth shakes with the intensity of her grief. Five years. She knows it wasn't her fault she disappeared - she would never had chosen to leave, sleeping at the bottom of some canyon while her students march off to face the war alone. But she cannot stop the guilt from rising up, burning her insides like acid. If she hadn't disappeared, could things have turned out differently?</p><p>She remembers Dmitri's youthful smile, body relaxing into the chair as he sips from his cup of Chamomile tea, and Byleth bites back a sob, holding back tears. She wishes she had never fallen asleep.</p><p><em>Maybe a walk will help</em>, she thinks.</p><p>Byleth throws the sheets off and pushes herself off the bed, still shaky. She takes a deep breath, steadies herself against the door frame, and steps out of her room.</p><p>Its that time of the year again, where the night is lightened by the flickering glow of fireflies dancing in the wind. The pond is particularly stunning at this time of the year. The murky green water is basked in the gentle yellowish light of the tiny critters. The spots over which clusters of fireflies hover reflect so much light that the water is given an ethereal glow. It is a beautiful sight. Byleth sits at the pier, shucking off her boots and letting her feet dangle over the edge, toes teasing the cool water. She watches the fireflies float around the pond and eventually her breathing evens out. But her heart still weighs heavy. She thinks of her students, all the ones who had lost their lives to the war, and silently wishes they could have seen this sight with her.</p><p>Byleth is by no means religious, even after her stint at the monastery, she has never once ascribed to the teachings of Seiros. But tonight, she thinks of her students, the dead and the living - all victims of the war.</p><p>And for the first time in her life, she prays.</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Morning arrives all too quickly. Byleth doesn't feel ready for another day of responsibilities, but she knows she has to. There's too much riding on her shoulders for her to skive off even one day of preparation. So she busies off to another day of research, planning and war councils. Byleth sinks into strategy meetings with Claude, not wanting to make any more mistakes, not wanting to lose any more of her students. The Stubborn Old General is not a fort to be underestimated.</p><p>'Professor!'</p><p>Byleth involuntarily winces at the voice.</p><p>'Hilda,' she greets. 'How are you holding up?'</p><p>If the death of her dear students had caused her so much grief, Byleth could only imagine the sheer devastation Hilda felt at losing Marianne. It had only been two years since they had gotten married. Far too soon for them to have been separated so brutally. She couldn't help but feel responsible for Marianne's death, even though she knew there was nothing she could have done to save her;she had turned the hands of time too many times in their last battle at Gronder to know.</p><p>Moving to support Marianne would have meant leaving her entire battalion to take on two demonic beasts alone. It was the death of one versus the death of a hundred. And it wasn't by mere conjecture that she knew this. The memory of bloodied corpses trampled underfoot had been burned into her mind. Fathers, wives, children, all dead by ferocity of the Imperial beasts. Marianne wouldn't have wanted that to happen either. She knew it. And so, Byleth had been given a choice to make, and she chose to protect her men over her dear student. Sometimes Byleth wished she had never been given the power of the Goddess, that she never had the ability to turn back time, because now that she could, she no longer had the option to just fight her hardest and accept the fate that had been given to her. She had become the silent arbiter of her life, of the lives of her students, of the lives of everyone around her. And who was she to decide the fate of others? What right did she have to determine who's life was more worthy than the other? Byleth never wanted to play god, but by the cruel will of the heavens, she had been given the power to become one.</p><p>'Gee, professor. You look horrible.' Hilda's voice punctures Byleth's inner turmoil.</p><p>Byleth's lips quirk into a small smile. 'So do you, Hilda. You should get more rest. You look exhausted.'</p><p>It was true. Hilda's usual cheer and enthusiasm was betrayed by the dark circles under her eyes. Her skin was dry, eyes slightly red, likely from crying through the nights.</p><p>Hilda's bright smile drops a little. 'I'm fine professor. You know me, always so good at finding ways to relieve my burdens.'</p><p>Byleth huffs, amused, but the air of melancholy never leaves her frame. 'Of course you do. But that doesn't mean you've been getting enough rest.'</p><p>'I know......I just......' Hilda's smile drops. 'I can't help thinking over and over again that I should have been there, you know? That I should have been by her side, protecting her.'</p><p>Byleth wants to agree, but she knows that without Hilda leading the wyvern corps to hold the frontlines, they would never had won the battle at Gronder.</p><p>'I know,' she says instead. 'I'm sorry. The best thing we can do now is to win this war, and usher in the era of peace that Marianne always prayed for.'</p><p>'You're right, professor. I'm sorry, I-' Hilda's words are cut off by a warm hand squeezing her shoulder.</p><p>'It's quite alright,' Byleth responds mildly. Her smile is warm, but Hilda can see the sorrow in the set of her shoulders. 'Did you need me for something?'</p><p>'Ah, right. Linhardt was looking for you. He's in the library. Something about crests and battle formations?'</p><p>'Better not keep him waiting then. And you, go get some sleep.' Byleth waves and walks off towards the library.</p><p>'You too, professor.' Hilda calls out after her.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>She finds Linhardt in a familiar position, forest green hair barely visible over the tall stacks of books surrounding him.</p><p>'Hey,'she calls out, taking a seat beside him.</p><p>'Hey,' he replies, a soft smile ghosting his lips, eyes never leaving the thick tome in front of him.</p><p>'Hilda said you needed me for something?'</p><p>'Yeah. I just thought maybe this time we could change up the formation a little, give the mages a little more cover while they work away from the front lines. Especially with the layout of Fort Merceus being as it is......we're diving straight into enemy territory this time. We'd be surrounded.'</p><p>'You're thinking about her too, aren't you?' Its more of a statement than a question. Byleth already knows how Linhardt feels.</p><p>'She was always so kind, that Marianne. She didn't deserve to die like that. We had classes in the stables together. Did you know she sometimes holds full conversations with the horses?' Linhardt chuckles, but Byleth doesn't miss the sadness laced in his voice. 'She never did when I was around, of course. But sometimes I would take naps during our duties, and I suppose she must have thought I was already asleep. She talked to them like old friends. Well, more than that really. She probably never even spoke half the amount of words in conversation with me. Marianne's an oddball, that's for sure.'</p><p>Linhardt falls silent. Byleth knows from his blank stare that he's lost in thought, and brings a hand over his, patiently waiting for him to continue.</p><p>'I don't like war. I don't want to lose any more friends. That's why I think we have to prepare better, plan more, maybe even train harder.'</p><p>Byleth thinks of a couple quips she could say, but instead she turns Linhardt's hand over, palm facing up, and laces their fingers together. 'I don't want to lose anyone else either.' She makes sure Linhardt is looking at her as she says this. 'We'll make it work. Together.'</p><p> </p><p>Linhardt offers a meek smile, and they busy themselves with calculations and battle tactics. Claude joins them some time after, and they spend the rest of the day sequestered away in a corner of the library, throwing strategems at each other over mock battles.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Byleth takes a walk that night again, the ghosts of her past too tangible to allow her even an hour's rest.</p><p>Tonight she dreamt of lifeless eyes, bodies twitching on the ground. She had saved them all, of course, with the power of the divine pulse. But the sight of charred bodies, the acrid smell of blood and smoke that filled the air, the sound of her students gasping their last breaths, so still amidst the chaos of the battlefield......Byleth couldn't forget. It was a memory just as clear, just as haunting as the events that had come to pass. Her knowledge of the futures that never came to fruition had bestowed upon her a wisdom far beyond her age, but there were times the realities she experienced addled her mind, always resurfacing when she laid her head to rest at night. Sometimes she would forget which memories were reality, and which were from a timeline changed by her own hand.</p><p>She pitters about the greenhouse, taking in the lush flora and fauna, blooming with so much life even despite having been abandoned for the last 5 years. Apart from a few shattered windows, the greenhouse is mostly intact, seemingly untouched by the war. She thinks of the giant hole in the ceiling of the dining hall, the collapsed pillars, the caved in walls, and thinks that the greenhouse must bring some remarkable luck.</p><p>And yet even for all the tranquility the greenhouse brings, Byleth cannot shake the restlessness from her bones.</p><p>'Heavy weighs the crown......'</p><p>Byleth looks up from her position, squatted besides a cropping of noa fruits.</p><p>'Claude.'</p><p>'You're up late, my friend. Couldn't sleep?' Claude raises an arm in salute.</p><p>Byleth isn't surprised that Claude, too, is wandering the monastery after dark. Despite the jovial attitude he maintains throughout the day, she knows there is much he worries about. The burdens of his leadership is not an easy one to bear. She knows this all too well. After all, she's the one who spends the most time with their eagle-eyed leader.</p><p>'You too,' she states. 'It's late. It's going to be another long day tomorrow. You should be sleeping.' Byleth hears the hint of authority creeping into her voice, her teacher voice.</p><p>Claude chuckles. 'I know, I know. Care to share what's weighing on this fair maiden's mind this evening?'<br/>He settles down besides Byleth, back resting against the edge of the planter box. Byleth lets her fingers idly ghost over the leaves of the plant, thinking.</p><p>'Maybe the Ashen Demon has grown soft.' Byleth doesn't know how to express the depth of emotion that plagues her every moment, the nightmares that twist in her sleep, the guilt that bubbles in her gut like a dormant volcano waiting to erupt. She doesn't know how to explain the hole that Sothis's disappearance had left, how the goddess had given her the divine pulse, how she had the ability to turn back time.</p><p>'Is that really so bad?' Claude tilts his head back, looking up at the stars through the foggy glass off the greenhouse. 'You're only human, after all. The war is hard on us all.'</p><p>'Human, huh...' Byleth muses, thumb idly stroking the inside of her wrist, as if confirming her pulse - or lack thereof. The question lies heavy on her tongue, but she never manages to voice them. It doesn't matter either ways. Claude doesn't miss the way her pupils widen as she sinks deeper into her train of thought, doesn't miss the grip she has on her wrist. He reaches over with one hand and grabs her hand, pulling it away. Byleth turns her head, startled, and meets his eyes, burning with determination and strength, with life.</p><p>'You are. Don't ever doubt it.' Claude's tone leaves no room for argument. Byleth hears the sincerity in his voice, and knows that he isn't just saying it to comfort her. He believes it too.</p><p>'They shouldn't have died. I...I should have done something. Anything.'</p><p>Claude's laugh is tinged with sorrow. 'You know there was nothing we could have done. They were standing in opposition to us. A wise woman once told me, its kill or be killed on the battlefield. If we hadn't cut them down......it would be the bodies of our allies you would have to bury instead. Maybe even mine.'</p><p>Byleth recognises his words. They were her own, from a seminar long before the war began. Although to her, it was only a few months ago. The truth in Claude's words ring out, but Byleth can't help feeling guilty all the same. She had cut down Ashe and Ferdinand by her own hand - she didn't want the burden to fall to any of her students. They had been friends once, after all. The first time Byleth had shed tears was when she was 20 years old, kneeling beside the fading body of her father. Now, it seems she cries at almost every battle, every time she is forced to put one of her students to rest.</p><p>'I won't let you die,' Byleth stares Claude down resolutely. 'Who else will break down the walls around Fodlan, turn the people's suffering into peace?'</p><p>'Hey, it doesn't have to be me. Fodlan still has you, too. I don't expect to be able to bring my ambitions to fruition all alone, you know. I'm hoping your divine wisdom will continue nag at me for ages to come,' Claude teases.</p><p>Byleth lets out a short laugh, feeling a little lighter at his words. She hopes that the future Claude envisions will come soon. 'Once my student, always my student, huh?'</p><p>Claude grins. 'You bet'cha, Teach.'</p><p>They sit in comfortable silence, both lost within their own thoughts, but finding solace in each other's company. The sky is beginning to lighten by the time they decide to retreat back to their rooms. Byleth manages a few more hours of troubled sleep before her day begins anew.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I'm not very sure where I'm going with this story tbh....I just sat down one day bc I was bored and started writing. I have A Lot Of Feelings towards this beautiful game and also I'm soft for Lin so......let's see how this fic wants to write itself HAHA. Thank you for reading:)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p></p><div>
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  <div>
    <p>Byleth can't deny it. The many sleepless nights are starting to take its toll on her. Rarely would there be a time where she was able to rest her head without being assaulted by night terrors and gruesome memories. She knew how bad she looked - more than enough people had stopped her to comment on her sallow skin or the darkening circles beneath her eyes. Even the monastery gate keeper had more than a few words to say about it. But she couldn't afford to take a break. Not now. Not when they were a week away from their next mission.</p>
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    <p> </p>
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    <p>It seemed she was getting progressively worse, in fact. Her appetite had gradually diminished, and her trips the dining hall had become most irregular. She was used to only eating when she felt hungry, after all. And lately, she hadn't had the urge to eat at all. The tension around the monastery had been gradually climbing as the days slipped by. The air was thick with anxiety for the coming battle, and the stress she felt only climbed as the days grew shorter and the nights, more fitful. </p>
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    <p>She wasn't oblivious to the worried glances her allies were sending her way during war councils, but she had no time to rest. She had to manage the battalions, take stock of inventory, secure sufficient rations for their journey to Fort Merceus. And then there were the incessant war councils, strategy meetings, and the occasional seminar, all while continuing to oversee the army's training sessions. Her daily roster was crammed with responsibilities, none of which she felt comfortable enough leaving in the hands of anyone else. It wasn't that she didn't trust her students or the monastery staff. Rather, it was an odd sense of duty that led her to take on so many responsibilities, working herself so tirelessly everyday despite her sleep deprivation. </p>
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    <p><span>I'm still doing fine</span>, she thinks. <span>I need to do all I can to prepare us for the coming battle.</span></p>
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    <p>The morning's meeting had dragged on as Claude explained their final strategy to the room. Claude, Byleth and Linhardt had taken Hilda's initial idea of infiltration and built upon it over the last few weeks, formulating a plan to take the fort. It was a risky operation, even despite their best attempts at minimizing all risks, but it was also their best bet at taking down the Stubborn Old General. </p>
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    <p>Claude had failed to secure additional reinforcements for the month, and their ranks had grown thin after the battle at Gronder. But, the Alliance wasn't the only ones to have taken a hit. Their previous battle had drawn units from the impregnable fortress too, leaving their defences weakened - an opportunity for them to let themselves into the fort.</p>
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    <p>'We're infiltrating the fort on the last day of the month. That's exactly one week from now,' Claude announces.</p>
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    <p> </p>
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    <p>'Ooh! So you did use my plan after all,' Hilda comments, pumping her fists in the air, clearly pleased with herself.</p>
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    <p>'Yes. We did,' Linhardt speaks up. 'But we've also......refined the idea a little.'</p>
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    <p>'There's a letter I need delivered to Fort Merceus a day before we begin our seige. Can I entrust this to you, Ignatz?' Claude turns his gaze to the archer, who sits up straighter in his seat upon being called.</p>
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    <p>'Y-yes of course!' </p>
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    <p>'Good. Judith has been able to secure some Imperial uniforms for us to disguise ourselves in. It's not much, but it should be enough to cover the squadrons we've decided to deploy for this mission.'</p>
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    <p>'What will you write in the letter?' Hilda's head tilts with her enquiry.</p>
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    <p>'I'm going to inform the generals to expect the arrival of some reinforcements. It would be odd for soldiers to arrive announced, after all. Then, they'll let us in through the front gates without even questioning it,' Claude replies. 'Of course, that's not going to be enough,' he continues, pacing back and forth in front of the room. 'Our allies are going to stage an attack on us, the disguised Imperial troops, as we approach the fort. It's going to look like the alliance is attacking their Imperial reinforcements, and when the troops in the fortress panic and open up the gates......we're in.'</p>
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    <p>'As much as I hope your plan goes off without a hitch,' Judith pipes up from the back of the council room. 'I do hope you've accounted for the strength of the Death Knight. He <span>is</span> going to be guarding the fort.'</p>
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    <p>'I know. But we have nothing to worry about. After all, we've go Teach here to command us. Have a little faith. All will be well.' Claude turns to grin at Byleth, and despite her fears about the mission, she can't help but offer a small smile in return. Byleth recognises the trust in his eyes, and thinks that <span>maybe, just maybe</span> she can do it, after all. Claude wouldn't put his trust in her if he didn't think she was strong enough, after all.</p>
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    <p>Judith sighs in exasperation, planting her face into her palm. 'So your big plan is to just trust your professor? Really, boy?'</p>
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    <p>Claude merely turns to redirect his grin at his aunt. 'Like I said, have a little faith, Judith.'</p>
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    <p>'With the tactics the professor has learnt from Captain Jeralt, I'm sure we'll manage somehow.' Leonie voices her vote of confidence.</p>
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    <p>'Absolutely!' Mercedes supplies. </p>
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    <p>Murmurs of affirmation fill the room, and Byleth is suddenly humbled by the realisation of how much her students have come to trust her.</p>
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    <p>'Alright. You're all dismissed,' Byleth announces, fondness bleeding into her voice.</p>
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    <p>'Aw, yeah! Finally! I'm starving,' Raphael's cheer is already disappearing down the hallway as he makes for the dining hall.</p>
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    <p>Byleth feels a gentle fingers curl around her wrist, tugging. </p>
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    <p>'C'mon. You too, professor,' Linhardt calls out, already pulling her towards the door.</p>
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    <p>'H-hey wait! I can walk on my own!' she protests, stumbling after him. </p>
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    <p> </p>
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    <p>'Oh, I know you can. But if I don't bring you with me, I know you <span>won't.</span><span>' </span></p>
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    <p>Byleth can't see his face, but knows from his voice that he's rolling his eyes at her. His grip isn't particularly tight, but his tone is resolute, and Byleth lets herself get pulled along by their sleepy mage anyway.</p>
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    <p><span>He's really grown up,</span> she thinks. A far cry from the silent eyes watching from the back of the classroom, always looking for a chance to skive off and take a nap. Now, Linhardt takes the initiative to prepare for missions with Claude and her. Byleth feels an odd sense of pride bubble up within her. </p>
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    <p>It wasn't a rare sight anymore these days, the ex-students of the monastery filing into the dining hall after each meeting, and Linhardt bringing up the rear with the professor in hand. Had the boy not taken it upon himself to drag his professor to lunch every day, Byleth is sure she'd have visited the dining hall once every two days instead. She still doesn't think it's necessary, of course - she still wasn't hungry. But she's grateful for his concern all the same.</p>
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    <p>Evening is settling over the ruins of the monastery, the setting sun casting a milky glow over the horizon. Byleth is making her way back to her quarters after another long day, eager to finally stretch out stiff muscles and curl up in warm sheets, even if she can't fall asleep. Byleth stares absently at the pond as she strolls by, pink and orange hues bouncing off its surface. </p>
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    <p><span>Beautiful,</span> she thinks.</p>
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    <p> </p>
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    <p>She's about to round the corner to the dormitory when a flurry of movement catches her eye. A figure looms in the shadows of the greenhouse, large and imposing, bandage-wrapped arms gently tending to the chamomile flowers. Dedue. </p>
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    <p> </p>
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    <p>She had found him after the battle at Gronder had concluded, crouched over his liege's body, hands clenched into fists so tight that his fingernails bore red crescents into his palm. The despairing howls that tore from his body rang in Byleth ears, unforgettable. His Highness's body had been half draped over Dedue's lap, not minding the cold dampness of Dmitri's cloak, slowly soaking up his blood. Dedue's arms had been slashed to ribbons during battle, blood weeping from the wounds like crimson bangles, but he seemed to not notice the pain as he cradled Dmitri's mangled body in the middle of the battlefield. Byleth remembers the pang of guilt that had pierced her being at the sight, stomach clenching in her gut. Her body had moved as if on autopilot, and Byleth watched herself place a glove-clad hand over his shoulder, she remembers calling out his name in an uncharacteristically soft voice. Dedue had jumped at her touch, apparently oblivious to her presence until that moment. His body twisted with surprising flexibility. If Byleth's instinctual reflexes had not been as sharp as they were, she was sure Dedue's fist would have knocked her out cold.</p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p> </p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p>'Professor,' Dedue's eyes widened at the sight of her.</p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p> </p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p>'We should give him a proper burial. Its the least we can do,' she had said, kneeling down across from him.</p>
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  <div>
    <p> </p>
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  <div>
    <p>'I <span>will</span> avenge him,' Dedue's gaze was stone cold, fists shaking by his side. 'I swear it on my life, my liege,' he turns his gaze to meet the face of the man that had given him a new life, a new purpose. 'I will not rest until I bring you Edelgard's head.'</p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p> </p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p>Byleth would have liked to return the King's body to his homeland, bury him under Fargheus soil, but the Kingdom had turned into dangerous territory, and it was far too risky to venture into their lands just to bury a body, even if it <span>was</span> the King's body. Instead, she slung one of Dmitri's arms over her shoulder, and together, they carried Dmitri's body back to camp and returned to Garreg Mach. Her whole body was aching, head swimming with exhaustion by the time they had returned, but she steeled herself and stumbled after Dedue, who had made for the graveyard without a moment's delay.  They buried the King in the empty plot next to her father's grave.</p>
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  <div>
    <p> </p>
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  <div>
    <p>Byleth watches as the intimidating man busies about the greenhouse, tending to the plants with an astonishing amount of gentleness. She gazes at him from a far for a while, hesitating. She doesn't want her presence to be intrusive, doesn't know if she would be welcome to join him. She doesn't have to wonder for long, however, as Dedue lifts his head and catches sight of her. He waves her over.</p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p> </p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p>'Professor, I wanted to thank you,' Dedue begins. 'For everything you've done for His Highness, and also for letting me stay here.'</p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p> </p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p>Byleth shakes her head. 'It was the least I could do.'</p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p> </p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p>'Actually, there is a matter I would like to discuss with you.'</p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p> </p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p>'Hmm?' Byleth cocks her head questioningly. </p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p> </p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p>
      <span>Does he want to join our mission to Fort Merceus?</span>
    </p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p> </p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p><span>'</span>I heard you will be laying seige on the Impregnable Fortress .'</p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p> </p>
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  <div>
    <p>'We will,' Byleth nods.</p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p> </p>
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  <div>
    <p>'I see,' Dedue replies contemplatively. 'I was thinking that I should take my leave soon.'</p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p> </p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p>Byleth frowns, worried. 'Where will you go?' </p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p> </p>
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  <div>
    <p>'To the capital. To Enbarr.'</p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p> </p>
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  <div>
    <p>Byleth's eyes widen in shock. 'It is too dangerous. You cannot go alone.'</p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p> </p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p>'No,' Dedue says. 'But Edelgard most likely thinks I am dead. The Imperial capital will be blind to my presence. It will not be safe, but I will be much safer travelling alone than if I were accompanied by Alliance troops.'</p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p> </p>
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  <div>
    <p>Byleth remains silent. Dedue watches her for a moment before continuing.</p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p> </p>
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  <div>
    <p>'I still have a duty to fulfil. I must do this.'</p>
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  <div>
    <p> </p>
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  <div>
    <p>Byleth doesn't want to let him leave. It is far too dangerous. But she knows she cannot stop him, so instead, she nods.</p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p> </p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p>'Stay safe. May we meet again in the city of Enbarr.'</p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p> </p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p>'I will.'</p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p> </p>
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  <div>
    <p>The next morning, the hulking figure of the late King's loyal retainer had all but vanished from sight.</p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p> </p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p> </p>
  </div>
  <hr/>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>'It's time. We're counting on you, Teach,' Claude's grin is blinding.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Byleth nods in response, body tight and alert. Despite only having gotten 3-4 hours of restless sleep over the past few weeks, Byleth felt awake. Her mind was sharper than ever, blood rushing with the waves of adrenaline.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>As the army approaches the gates of Fort Merceus, they hear the sounding of a horn, loud and melodic, ringing out clear over the forest. The gates let out a mighty creak as the Imperial troops crank the pulley, and the black iron doors part before them. Claude had taken his two infantry units along with his Wyvern corps and circled round the back of the forest to breach their back entrance.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>The ornately decorated black and red banner of the Adrestian Empire flutters freely in the wind, and the disguised Alliance army marches purposefully through the gates of the Impregnable Fortress.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>They were in, but something felt wrong. She smelled it. The scent of death.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Out of the corner of her eye, Byleth catches a familiar glint, and her blade is in her hand before she can even think about it. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>CLANG</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>A black spear spins through the air. Byleth turns to face her opponent. A squadron of armored knights charge towards the Alliance army, and the battle begins.</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>It's been so long since I've written anything it kinda feels weird ahaha. Dmitri's appearance in chapter 19 actually killed me.... my heart...this pure child did not deserve dis:"( Golden Deer was my first route and I just had to marry Claude.......he's just....so great....but I recruited everyone and Linhardt has managed to weasel himself into a very very special place in my heart.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div>
<p></p><div><p>The smell of blood and burning flesh fills the air, and Linhardt winces. He hates blood. He hates the battlefield. But he has no choice but to take up arms.</p></div><div><p>An image flashes across his mind - the sharp point of a spear slicing through air, homing in on Byleth's  head. His heart stopped. But of course, the tactician, quick as ever, merely flicked her arm out, parrying the attack without so much as a glance and disarming her attacker with impossible grace. The next moment, Linhardt had his arm stretched out, the familiar prickling of magic racing up his arm as a burst of lighting shot forward, white hot. The  Armored knight had been knocked back several feet, crumpling to the ground. </p></div><div><p>The battlefield was harsh and merciless, bodies falling all around Linhardt high up on his mount. Imperial troops swarmed forth endlessly. For each knight Linhardt cut down, two more would appear. It was as if the fort had the ability to generate troops like a factory. Just how many Imperial soldiers was this fortress holding? Admist the chaos and smoke,  Linhardt can't help be be in awe of Byleth's prowess, dancing between foes and putting them down with fluid swings of her rapier, all while bellowing commands and directing the army as they pushed further into the fort. </p></div><div><p>'Hilda! Ingrid! Leave us and go back up Claude!'</p></div><div><p>Blood spurts forth as she cuts down another armored knight with ease.</p></div><div><p>'Linhardt, Dorothea and Petra! Take the mages down the left wing! The rest of you, with me!'</p></div><div><p>Byleth charges forward with Felix, Sylvain and Ashe in tow, pushing back the enemy flooding in from the right entrance. Linhardt can't help but feel a bout of anxiety bubble up from being ordered away from Byleth; he wanted to fight by her side and watch her back. But Linhardt knew better than to question his professor's commands, especially in the heat of battle. Instead, he nods in response, even if she can't see him, and gives a tight kick to his mount, magic pooling in his palms.</p></div><div><p>The battle seems to rage on for hours. Linhardt can already feel his stamina gradually being sapped away. He grit his teeth. It didn't seem like the fighting would stop anytime soon, he had to be more judicious with his magic. </p></div><div><p>'FELIX!' </p></div><div><p>Byleth's outcry rings out over the cacophony of the battlefield. Linhardt takes in a sharp breath. He feels his gut twist. Instinctively, Linhardt turns, eyes darting across the scene, looking for the source of her voice. </p></div><div><p>And then he sees it. Felix's body on the ground, blood spilling from his wounds. The Death Knight's scythe is poised, swinging down in a deadly arc. <span>He can't dodge it,</span> Linhardt thinks, lips pressed into a grim line. <span>There's no time.</span></p></div><div><p>Petra's body flashes by with a charged yell, axe coming down with a thunderous crash. Linhardt's gaze snaps forward.</p></div><div><p>'Pay attention! Now is not the time to be looking away!' Petra's voice is fierce, her eyes have a deadly glint as she cuts through another soldier, who falls to the ground with a pained groan.</p></div><div><p>'Not the time to be worrying about others, Lin,' Dorothea's voice floats up from behind him. He can feel her magic pulsing and growing at his back as she strikes down enemies from afar.</p></div><div><p>'Sorry,' he says, simply, lifting his spear. He didn't like using physical weapons, but he couldn't escape Byleth's insistence on the matter and was forced to hone his skills with the weapon. He had hated training, of course, but locked in the heat of battle and feeling the magic slowly drain from his body, Linhardt couldn't help but feel grateful for having developed the skill. </p></div><hr/>
<p></p><div><p>Felix's body flies through the air like a ragdoll, and he skids as he lands heavily on the ground, arm crushed beneath him. Felix pushes his body up, clutching his injured arm. His sword lies a few meters behind him, just out of reach. His head is throbbing and his vision swims as he looks up upon the face of death.</p></div><div><p><span>Maybe this is it,</span> he thinks, <span>and All I managed to do was scratch his armor. </span></p></div><div><p>Felix bites his lip bitterly. His vision is blacking out at the edges and the he can no longer hear the white noise of battle that he had grown accustomed to. But his gaze remains fixated on the Death Knight,  glaring straight into the glowing red eyes behind the mask. Even when at death's door, Felix's defiant spirit still burns bright. </p></div><div><p>'Pathetic,' the Death Knight breathes out, voice metallic and hollow. </p></div><div><p>Felix never averts his eyes, even as the Death Knight's scythe glides across his flesh, slicing his body like butter. Even as the pain shooting through his entire body makes him think <span>I want to die</span>. Even as the Death Knight turns to face Byleth, leaping forwards with Felix's name on her lips, enraged.</p></div><div><p>Felix glares at the Death Knight, and death stares back at him.</p></div><hr/><p><br/>
</p>
<p></p><div><p>Byleth panics. She watches the scythe cleave Felix's body and her blood runs cold. She was too far away, too slow, too weak. She can barely hear herself screaming his name over the rushing of blood through her ears.</p></div><div><p>She doesn't know how many time's  she's seen this scene. Felix's body broken and bruised, lying on the ground unmoving. Felix's body, mangled and slashed up, limbs twisted at odd angles, clothes singed by the Death Knight's deadly dark magic. Felix's body, covered in his own blood, body cleaved cleanly in half, the Death Knight's ominous laughter echoing around her like a cruel taunt. Felix's body oozing red, head rolling away slowly like a grotesque ball, Felix...Felix...Felix......</p></div><div><p>She raises her arms, sword pointing towards the sky, and in one swift motion, she brings the weapon tearing down, energy arcing across her arms. And the world still around her once again, crystallizing into a haunting mosaic of images. </p></div><div><p><span>Back. Back, I have to go Back.</span></p></div><div><p>Why did Felix have to be such a stubborn hardass? If only he'd listen to her warnings, Byleth wouldn't  have to turn back time again and again, searching for a way to save him. Byleth's arms are shaking. Her breathing is stuttered, forced and in short heaves. Fear and panic is pushing bile up her throat, burning tissue and straining her vocal cords, but she pushes it back down. </p></div><div><p><span>No time for weakness,</span> she thinks. Her blade is sharp, cutting through the fabric of reality once more, and the next time she opens her eyes, Shes parrying the lance of an armored knight, winged troops surging forward overhead, Linhardt's familiar bolt of thunder striking down the enemy beside her.</p></div><div><p>She issues the same commands she had given before; Fliers to Claude, Mages to the armored knights to the left, the Calvary and Felix with her to the right.</p></div><div><p>'Felix,' Byleth grunts out, cutting down another soldier. 'Stay behind me. I don't care if you, gh-' Byleth grunts, blocking a heavy attack from the enemy's calvary unit, blades sliding against each other with a piercing sound. 'I don't care if the Death Knight is within reach,' she continues. 'Do not engage.'</p></div><div><p>She hears Felix scoff behind her as he jumps up, landing a crushing blow on another enemy, toppling him from his mount.</p></div><div><p>'What's that thing Claude <span>loves</span> to say? Have faith? Hah. I can take him.' Felix cuts through another two calvary units.</p></div><div><p>Byleth knew he wouldn't listen. She had tried too many times.</p></div><div><p>Her eyes narrowed in frustration. Sylvain was battling soldiers a few meters in front of her, but he'd be useless in the face of the Death Knight, who's every attack glowed with the ugly miasma of his tainted magic. She couldn't risk him. It was all up to her. She had to put the Death Knight down before Felix reached him.</p></div><div><p>With a fearsome yell, she stabbed a soldier off his horse, leaving him writhing on the ground, and then kicked herself onto his steed. </p></div><div><p>'Sylvain!' she yelled out, already turning the mount around towards the Death Knight. 'I'm leaving this place to you! Keep everyone safe!'</p></div><div><p>'H-hey wait! Professor don't-' Sylvain's words die in his throat as he beats back another soldier, focus sharpening.  'Don't go alone! Its too dangerous!' Sylvain's voice is lost to the clatter of weapons and screams. He wants to ride to back up his professor, but he couldn't leave the area to Felix alone. He grits his teeth and cleaves another knight apart.</p></div><div><p>'Don't die......' he whispers, sweat beading on his forehead. Sylvain is worried, but a part of him thinks it'll be okay. Its the professor after all. She's strong. And above all, he trusts her.</p></div><hr/>
<p></p><div><p>Byleth lets out a charged cry as she approaches the Death Knight. She leaps up from her horse, Sword of the Creator lifted high above her head as she readies a blow against the Death Knight.</p></div><div><p>'You......' He breathes.</p></div><div><p>The Death Knight blocks her attack with the hilt of his scythe, weapons scraping against each other with incredible force.</p></div><div><p>'You're stronger now. Whether I kill you or you kill me, I'm looking forward to this!'</p></div><div><p>Byleth narrows her eyes at his words. Her reply comes in the form of another barrage of attacks. There is no need for words. Byleth has faced the Death Knight countless times before, knows that he will understand the conversation between their traded blows more than any other. Byleth remembers Felix's body, sprawled on the ground, and her <span>hatred</span> bursts forth unbidden. Her blows become sharp. Precise. Deadly.</p></div><div><p>The tip of her blade barely scratches the surface of his silver mask, glinting tauntingly in the sun. The Death Knight pushes her sword away with a grunt.</p></div><div><p>'Hah......HAHAHAHA! Good......very good! Show me more!' The Death Knight's laughter is grating, like chainsaws grinding against each other, sharp and cruel. His red eyes are alight with excitement, and his attacks come down on Byleth with even greater fervor.</p></div><div><p>Byleth bites back a pained whine as the arc of his scythe meets the flesh of her thigh before she has time to jump out of the way. His blade is sharp, biting. She steps back, just out of range of his weapon. She's already been met with multiple lacerations all over her body, blood slowly streaming down and accumulating in the ridges of her armor.</p></div><div><p>She grits her teeth, the crouches down low. The Death Knight twirls his weapon languidly, eyes never leaving hers, tracking her movements and waiting for her next move. They circle around each other, tension climbing. Byleth lets her weight drop, feels her muscles tensing, and then she pushes herself off the ground with a powerful burst, darting forwards and rolling underneath the Death Knight's steed in a flash.</p></div><div><p>And suddenly she's behind him, sword dancing around the Death Knight as she chains attack after attack. She manages to get a few solid hits in, knocking his pauldrons clean off and raking at the exposed chinks in his armor. The Death Knight's roar rings in her ears, more enraged than pained. His back arches. His grip on his scythe loosens just a fraction, and Byleth sees an opening.</p></div><div><p>'I've got you now!' She hisses sharply, leaping high into the air with a great burst of energy, Sword of the Creator snapping into place as she brings it down upon his neck.</p></div><div><p>There's a sickening CRACK.</p></div><div><p>And suddenly pain is blooming from her chest, sharp and intense. Her body convulses and, unable to maintain control over her muscles, the Sword of the Creator drops from her hand, falling to the ground with a timid clatter. The Death Knight's own scythe lay forgotten on the ground beneath them. His sharp claws are digging into her breast, blood spilling down the Death Knight's arm as he lifts her up high.</p></div><div><p>The Death Knight laughs maniacally, but the sound barely registers in Byleth's ears. All she can focus on is the rabid pain that's blooming from her chest. His claws feel like poison, stabbing deep into her body, and her body feels numb, limbs tingling as blood leaks from her wounds continuously. She feels lightheaded.</p></div><div><p><span>I guess this is it, then. I guess it's either Felix, or me...</span></p></div><div><p>Byleth can feel her vision fraying at the edges, but she clings on to her consciousness desperately anyway. She wants to remain strong for as long has her body can manage. Byleth struggles to keep her thoughts coherent, but she knows she's losing too much blood.</p></div><div><p>'The empire......will never......win......' she spits out weakly, blood filling her mouth with each word. </p></div><div><p>And then a horn sounds, ringing out loud and clear over the battlefield. The Death Knight <span>tsks</span> in annoyance, then flings Byleth's body to the side like a dirty rag before galloping away, hollow voice lost in the wind.</p></div><div><p>Byleth doesn't feel her body soaring through the air, doesn't feel the ground colliding with her shoulder, doesn't feel the stickiness encasing her body.</p></div><div><p>She only barely hears voices crying out her name before everything fades to black. </p></div></div>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This chapter was rlly fun to write hehe. Hope ya'll enjoyed it! A little grim bc......i just tend to get carried away sometimes hehe. But dw the next chapter will be much lighter</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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